


Our Lips Can Touch, Our Cheeks Can Brush

by comefeedtherainn



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, rvbsecretsanta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 12:11:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13146450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comefeedtherainn/pseuds/comefeedtherainn
Summary: Written for @queseraawesome for the RVB Secret Santa! She asked for some Tuckington porn with lots of affection, giggles, and bossy Wash, so HERE IT IS! <3





	Our Lips Can Touch, Our Cheeks Can Brush

Wash has been looking at Tucker like he’s a fucking snack all evening.

He’s being incredibly obvious about it, too, which just makes Tucker preen even more as they sit in the mess hall, across from each other as usual with their knees brushing underneath the table. They’re surrounded by the other Reds and Blues, also as usual, but the way Wash keeps eying him over the lip of his cup or in between bites has Tucker feeling like they’re the only ones in the room. It’s been at least a week - Christ, maybe more? - since they’ve done anything but pass the fuck out as soon as they got into bed.

Wash has been busy being pulled in every direction like a fucking rag doll between bratty kids, because apparently as soon as he and Carolina arrived on Armonia the ‘army’ forgot how to fucking function without help. Tucker’s been busy just generally being a badass. There’s some squad training in there somewhere, along with heading missions and providing tactical advice, but Palomo had accidentally called him “Washington” the other day, and Tucker almost had a fucking heart attack; the day he becomes his fucking boyfriend is the day he retreats from the universe and lives in a fucking cave. So, yeah, ‘generally badass’ sounds a lot less lame.

Long story short - they haven’t fucked in a while. And they’ve both been feeling it, but the only time they ever want to doing something about it is in the middle of the day, when they have shit going on. But today, Wash is in rare form. They both managed to sleep all the way through the night, and made it to every meal, and nothing exploded that was out of the ordinary, and so that has made for two relatively pleasant moods. And apparently, a predatory Wash. Tucker can’t say he’s mad about it, playing casual as he literally fucking feels Wash undressing him with his eyes.

As he leaves the dining hall he can feel Wash following after him, not even trying to be subtle. Wash doesn’t touch him, though, or even speed up to walk beside him. He just follows Tucker down the halls, and Tucker grins at the feeling of being pursued. He takes his time, pretending he doesn’t notice, and he thinks he can hear a quiet laugh. He pauses when they finally reach the door to his quarters, turning and giggling as he allows himself to be crowded against it. “Oh. Fancy meeting you here.”

Wash laughs again, grinning down at him as he boxes Tucker in with his arms, freckled lips parted to reveal his fucking perfect teeth. “Yeah, what a coincidence. Inside.”

“Ohhh, yes, sir,” Tucker drawls, squeaking when Wash opens the door without warning him and he almost topples backward. Wash saves him at the last second, and the pair of them snicker. “Jesus, warn a guy!”

“Sorry,” Wash laughs, shutting the door behind them and instantly pulling Tucker in for a firm kiss. Tucker melts, eyelids fluttering as he settles into Wash’s arms. “I’ve been wanting to touch you all damn day.”

“Dude, I could tell,” Tucker teases. “You’ve been eying me up like you wanna eat me for dinner.”

“Maybe I do,” Wash hums, nipping Tucker’s earlobe. “Take your armor off.”

“Is that an order?” Tucker coos, dancing away from him.

“Would you like it to be?”

Tucker pauses, raising his eyebrows a bit as he considers Wash’s very-not-kidding expression. “…yeah, kinda.”

“Alright.” Wash flashes him a lopsided smile that can only be described as fucking smarmy, and reaches to cup Tucker’s jaw. He holds it firmly in his hand, tilting Tucker’s head up and forcing their eyes to meet. “Take off your armor. Now.”

He says it in that same voice he uses when he’s ordering Tucker to do laps or stop playing around during training, and Tucker’s instantly hot for it, his hands finding the releases of his armor before he can really think. It clatters to the floor in all of its pieces, probably a bit noisily, but he’s past giving a fuck because Wash’s baby blues are looking him up and down almost appreciatively and holy _fuck_ Tucker is horny.

“Jesus Christ, what’s gotten into you?” he asks playfully, his laugh a little breathless. Wash grins at him just as teasingly, removing his own armor but not letting it fall. He sets it all aside relatively neatly, instead, and Tucker is bouncing on the balls of his feet by the time Wash is down to his clothes. “Holy shit Wash, this is not the time for a strip tease.”

Wash blinks up at him, momentarily distracted. “I wasn’t strip teasing.”

“Well I certainly feel teased, so fuck you and get naked!”

He steps forward to take control of the situation, then blinks when Wash’s hands wrap tightly around his wrists. Wash walks him slowly until his back is pressed up against the wall, his wrists pinned on either side of his head. Wash is crowding him again, because he knows Tucker loves it like this, being surrounded and consumed by someone he trusts and loves. Wash kisses his neck and his lips are searing hot, and Tucker isn’t ashamed of the quiet whine that escapes him, his hips pressing outward in search of Wash’s.

Wash responds by slipping a thigh between Tucker’s legs and suddenly everything is much more heated, Tucker finding the friction he was looking for and groaning toward the ceiling. Wash hums and bites gently at his shoulder, then a little harder, and Tucker inhales sharply. “Mmm, do that more,” he sighs happily. “You can do it harder.”

“I know,” Wash laughs quietly. “You’re so impatient.”

“Just hard for you, baby.” Wash falters a bit, his ears going red, and Tucker grins. “What, you like that?” he simpers, even though he knows full fucking well that Wash loves it. “You like hearing how hard I am for you? How could I not be? You’re so fucking sexy, I love when you get all bossy, it gets me so hot, fuck, Wash…” He groans, leaning forward and biting at the shell of Wash’s flushed ear, feeling the heat between his lips.

Wash’s breath stutters, and Tucker grins triumphantly, sure that he’s won the upper hand, now. He is, however, very wrong. Wash tightens his grip on Tucker’s wrists, pulling back only to bite down hard on Tucker’s bottom lip and pull. Tucker whines in surprise as his knees buckle.

“Patience,” Wash demands lowly, and Tucker just stares at him silently, his jaw hanging a bit. Wash seems pleased enough, kissing and sliding his tongue along the indents he made in Tucker’s lip. “Good. Now, on the bed.”

“Ho-holy shit, yes sir,” Tucker grins, practically skipping to the bed and flopping onto his back wit his legs spread wide. “What next, baby? You gonna tie me up? Gag me? Clamp my nipples? I’m not really kidding about that last one, can we please do that?”

Wash snickers, crawling onto the bed with him and kissing him softly. “Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow, if you’re good.”

“I’ll be so good. I’ll be so fucking good,” Tucker grins.

Wash doesn’t respond to him, though he’s still smiling widely. Instead his hands slid up Tucker’s ribs, tickling him slightly, and his thumbs brush over dark nipples. He repeats the action until Tucker and gasping and twitching at the stimulation, rolling his hips upward. Wash moves his hands away after a minute or so, his palms smoothing up the insides of Tucker’s forearms. Finally their palms meet, and their fingers interlock, and Tucker finds himself beaming as he and Wash end up face to face, body firmly tucked against body, both of them hard and unable to stop grinning at each other.

“We’re so lame,” Tucker murmurs.

“Mhm,” Wash agrees, pecking him gently. He goes back in for a firmer kiss after that, gently prying Tucker’s lips open with his own and curling their tongues around each other. Tucker grunts and lifts his hips, and Wash rocks his own down to meet him, and soon they’re grinding and panting into each other with Tucker’s hands once again pinned on either side of his head.

“Wash,” Tucker whines shakily, boneless already. “Fuck, hurry up, I wanna- ah!” He gasps as he finds his head pulled back sharply, eyes on the ceiling and delicious pinpricks all over his scalp. He registers Wash’s fist tight in his hair, his locks wrapped around scarred fingers and freckled lips fucking hoovering his throat. “Oh, holy _fuck_ , babe,” Tucker whines, liquefying right there on the bed.

Wash pulls away with a pop and a low grunt, licking the mark he’s left. “You’ve been very demanding tonight, Lavernius. Would it kill you to say please?” he intones, voice a quiet thunder in his chest.

Tucker shivers as goosebumps rise all over his skin in response, and he gasps as Wash tightened his hold. “Please! Please please please, holy fucking shit, please.”

“Please what?” Wash asks, his voice still low and dangerous but his grin and shaky fingers betraying him. “Can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

“Jesus, you expect me to talk right now?!” Tucker cries, laughing shakily. “Fuck! You can literally do anything you want at this point, just give me your dick, baby, I need it.”

“You need it, huh?” Wash asks breathlessly, sitting up and reaching over Tucker’s head to rifle through the nightstand. “How bad?”

“So bad,” Tucker moans, stretching and biting at Wash’s nipple as it hovers in front of him. “So bad I’ll die if you don’t give it to me. Please, Wash.”

Wash slowly shakes his head, lubing up a finger with a feverish expression. His hands are still shaky, and he almost drops the bottle a couple of times before finally managing it. “Fuck, Tucker. You’re gonna kill me.”

Tucker doesn’t respond, reaching for Wash’s straining erection and pumping it firmly. It’s a bit of an awkward angle, but it makes Wash twitch and grunt, so Tucker grins triumphantly. Wash nudges his hand away after a moment, only so he can hover over Tucker and slowly slide a wet finger inside of him. Tucker inhales sharply, then lets out a long breath to keep himself from tensing up. Wash’s eyes are locked with his, light blue with deep brown, and Tucker forces his lids to stay open.

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles, grinning when Wash snorts and turns a shade deeper of red. “What? You are.”

“Stop,” Wash laughs quietly, though he kisses Tucker as a thank you anyway. He looks down as he starts to move his finger, concentrating, and Tucker lets out another long sigh. Wash has the longest fucking fingers, it’s insane, and it only takes a moment for Tucker to beg him for another. Wash slips a second finger in next to the first, and Tucker whines as he wraps an arm around Wash’s shoulders and presses their chests tightly together. He’s probably making the angle weird, but he can’t help it, he needs to be closer.

“Fuck, baby,” he mutters, mouth pressed to Wash’s flushed shoulder. “Give me more, I need more.”

Wash pants heavily into Tucker’s ear, pulling him into his lap. Tucker goes easily, wrapping his arms tightly around Wash’s neck and straddling his waist. Wash fingers him for another minute or so before carefully adding a third. “Is that okay?” he asks shakily, pulling back to look at Tucker’s face.

“Fuck, it’s good, it’s really good,” Tucker whines, grabbing Wash’s face and kissing him fiercely. “You gotta fuck me, you gotta fuck me, Wash, I’m gonna die.”

Wash bites hungrily at Tucker’s mouth, his eyes glazed over with need. “Condom. Need a condom.”

Tucker whines and flings himself onto his back, ignoring Wash’s gasp of alarm and griping that Tucker’s going to hit his head. He digs around blindly in the nightstand, retrieving a string of at least 10 condoms and throwing them at Wash’s face.

“Thanks,” Wash snorts, catching them before they can hit him and tearing one off. He swears sharply to himself as he can’t get his fingers to work fast enough, and Tucker takes it from him to save him the hassle. He reaches to roll it on for him, feeling Wash’s warm cock throb underneath his fingers, and then lays back and grips either side of the pillow underneath his head.

“Fuck me,” he begs, staring up at Wash needily. “I want it hard.”

“Yes, sir,” Wash murmurs, lifting up Tucker’s hips a bit and smoothly entering his body. The comforting feeling of fullness settles something in Tucker’s chest and he moans gratefully, sliding both hands into Wash’s hair. It’s a little tangled from being underneath his helmet all day, but Tucker just makes fists, using the grip as an anchor. Wash’s eyes flutter a bit, so he figures it’s appreciated.

Wash doesn’t waste any time before beginning to thrust, starting out measured so Tucker can adjust, but quickly increasing speed. Soon their skin is slapping together noisily, and Tucker feels dizzy. He can’t catch his breath but he doesn’t want to, and all he can feel and see and hear is Wash, panting in his ear and skin against his mouth and sweat mingling with sweat. The week-or-so without sex has gotten to him more than he thought, because his orgasm is already creeping up on him, his gut tightening his hips rolling desperately to meet each of Wash’s thrusts.

“Wash, Wash, Wash,” he whines, head falling back and his lidded gaze on the ceiling. “Wash, that’s so good, that’s so fucking good! Love getting fucked by you, your dick is so perfect in me, you’re gonna make me come!”

Wash doesn’t respond, has never been great at the whole dirty talk thing, but he does bite Tucker’s shoulder, hard enough that Tucker knows there’ll be a mark later. He also reaches between them to stroke Tucker’s dick, clumsily and out of sync with his hips, but it’s still so good, so fucking good. Tucker’s chest heaves more quickly as he draws closer to the edge, wrapping his legs around Wash’s hips. He digs his ankles into Wash’s ass cheeks, pulling him in deeper. That extra inch does it for him, and he comes with a happy cry, knowing that someone has probably heard them by now and only laughing giddily through the waves of pleasure at the thought.

Wash seems to have read his mind because he lets out a breathy laugh against Tucker’s neck, though it’s nearly drowned out by a grunt through his teeth as he climaxes a moment later. He grinds heavily into Tucker’s body, burying himself as deeply as he can as he rides it through. Tucker clings to him tightly, shaky and covered in a sparkling sheen of sweat.

“Holy fucking shit, dude.”

Wash laughs, loudly and with a wide grin. “Yeah.” He carefully slips out of Tucker and then onto his back. Wash pushes his sweaty bangs out of his face, his hands still trembling so badly Tucker knows he won’t be able to do much about cleaning them up. He pushes himself up instead, leaning over and pressing his lips tenderly to Wash’s and smiling as it’s returned just as gently. “I love you,” Wash murmurs, and Tucker grins in response, unable to help the happy giggle. Fuck, he’s lame. They’re both so lame.

“I love you, too. Let me get us a towel and water and shit.”

Wash looks like he might argue, try to act like it’s always his responsibility for some fucking reason, but one stern eyebrow from Tucker is enough to make him sigh and lay back down. “Alright. Thank you.”

“You got it, ya sexy beast,” Tucker teases, winking at him before rolling out of bed.’

“Sexy beast?!” Wash asks, snickering.

“Hell yeah, that shit was wild!” Tucker crows, wetting a wash cloth in the bathroom and getting them both a glass of water to share. “Pretty sure I saw God for a second, there.”

“Oh, please,” Wash scoffs, though he looks quite pleased with himself, a smirk tilting the curve of his mouth. Tucker sits beside him again and kisses the crinkles in his cheek.

They finish their water and Tucker gets them cleaned up, mostly. They settle down underneath the blankets, though after a few minutes they feel too hot and shove them down to their waists instead. Tucker drapes himself over Wash despite the heat, snuggling up and resting his ear over his heart. “Night, babe.”

“Goodnight, Tucker.”


End file.
